


Froyomens

by ChubbyHornedEquine



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Fluff and Crack, M/M, Meet-Cute, i will apologize for none of this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-13
Updated: 2020-05-13
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:06:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24154783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChubbyHornedEquine/pseuds/ChubbyHornedEquine
Summary: Look. Listen. I took a quiz and one of the questions was like, if someone bumped into you and you dropped your ice cream what would you do? And the answer was cry, obviously. Because I'm a grown ass adult. So of course I wrote the meet-cute I will never have XD
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 30
Kudos: 101





	Froyomens

"Aw c'moooon," Crowley groaned, tossing his head back, "bowling?"

"It's fun!" Ligur countered.

"It's my first real weekend off, I don't wanna go bloody bowling."

"No," said Hastur "you want to go sit in a dark theatre and watch a movie and not actually interact with any of us."

"Wha, we interact! There's previews and...after the movie. Post-movie discussion is the best part."

His coworkers and sibling stared blankly back at him. Finally Beelzebub grabbed him by the bottom hem of his shirt, "C'mon, we're going bowling, you've been overruled."

"Nooo," he whined, dramatically trying to writhe out of their grasp.

Ligur took his elbow, "let's go, you can brood in a theatre on your own time."

Completely oblivious to the rest of the bustling street around them, the small group tried to wrangle a petulant Crowley into order. It was a lot like trying to wrangle an eel that for some reason had elbows and was not afraid to use them. With an almost unnatural twist out of Beelzebub's grasp, Crowley took an fairly graceful step around them, until he tripped on his own feet and stumbled, bumping into someone.

He turned to see a man dressed in a three-piece suit, sleeves slightly rolled up, standing stock still, staring at the ground. He was almost Crowley's height, round and sturdy, the only thing mitigating his slightly terrifying aura was his bow tie and it honestly didn't help much. Crowley followed the stranger's gaze to the ground and realized he was staring at a small bowl of froyo that was now splattered across the sidewalk. Crowley felt a gratefulness deep in his bones that it had managed to splatter _away_ from the stranger's shoes.

"Shit, mate, I-I'm sorry."

The man didn't respond. He didn't even move.

Crowley stole a glance at the rest of his group who had given him a wide berth.

He looked back at the man and watched as he very slowly bent over, picked up the bowl and spoon, and walked it over to the nearest trash can.

"Uh..."

He looked up at Crowley, a smile on his face which was clearly forced, "It's quite alright," he said. Despite how scary he seemed at first, now that Crowley could see his face, he looked like he was about to burst into tears.

"Really, I'm sorry I--"

"These things happen. Busy street and all."

"Hrn," was all he managed.

"Have a good day," he said, and turned away.

Crowley watched him walk down the street back the way he'd been coming.

"Phew," Ligur said, "I thought he was gun pummel you."

"Alright, ass," Beelzebub said, "now that you're done with your tantrum, let's go."

"Yeah..." Crowley said, still watching the stranger walk away. He couldn't shake how _sad_ he looked. And the way he wished him a good day even though he was clearly upset. He followed behind his group, stealing a backward glance every so often. On the third glance he saw the stranger was standing in the middle of the sidewalk again, not moving while everyone shifted around him.

“Fuck,” Crowley muttered. “Oy, I’ll meet you all at the place.”

“ _Crowley_ ,” Beelzebub said.

“I will, I will, promise. Gotta fix this.” He squeezed Beelz’s arm before jogging off.

He caught up to the stranger easily enough, he hadn’t gone far. Crowley took a deep breath before tapping him on the shoulder. He expected annoyance. He expected anger. Hell, he half expected to startle him, causing him to drop the phone he must’ve been looking at. But no. The stranger slowly turned and looked at him with wide, teary-eyes, a fat droplet rolling down his cheek.

“Oh fuck,” Crowley said, snatching his hand away.

He blinked, seeming to come back to himself and wiped at his face. “Excuse me.”

“I...are you...cause of the…?”

He cleared this throat, “...yes.”

“Aw _fuck_ ,” his heart plummeted, “really?”

“It’s just..” he fiddled with his waistcoat, “I’ve had a bit of a _day_ and I thought I could treat myself for making it through all right and now it’s on the ground and it feels a little like that’s how it should be because everything is just so awful right now and I just, I wanted, I--”

“Whoa, whoa, hey,” Crowley gently took him by the elbow, guiding him out of the middle of the sidewalk.

“I’m sorry,” he sniffled, “you must think me terribly dramatic. Full-grown adult crying over-over froyo.”

“Well,” Crowley hunched his shoulders, “my nephew sent me a picture of a cat the other day that made me cry and I really couldn’t tell you why.”

“Oh dear, was it alright?”

Crowley felt his whole face scrunch into a frown, that part of his chest, a little off center, that he usually ignored, doing a weird thing that he most definitely ignored as he thought about the cat-faced-potato-thing. “I think so?” he managed, and he heard his voice crack.

“Oh no!”

“It’s just a stupid meme but I don’t get it,” he pratically wailed. “Why are their eyes _so sad?_ I don’t _like it!_ 1

The stranger patted his arm gently and Crowley shoved his glasses further up his face. He cleared his throat, “Anyway...um. Let me, let me get you a new thing. The froyo.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“No I do, I can’t have you thinking you don’t deserve nice things.” He stole a glance at the man who was trying to hide his smile and failing in the most painfully adorable way. “Right so, is that the spot ‘cross the way? With the green awning?”

“Yes, b-but really, you don’t--”

“C’mon,” he said, feeling a bit bolder having seen the man’s smile.

The store was called Sweet Temptations and it was painfully bright inside. Not...colorful. Although the little cups and spoons matched the green of the awning, everything else was stark white. A counter lined one wall and the stools set up beside it were green but there were no decorations, no themed mascots, nothing. It was like a tiny hospital. A tiny hospital for sweets.

A bell chimed as they entered and someone stepped out from the back area.

“Oh,” they deadpanned, “Aziraphale. You’re back.”

Aziraphale? Interesting.

“Ah, yes, I, uh--”

“Dropped it didn’t you?”

Crowley looked at the employee, taking note of their name tag, “Look uh, _Uriel_ , for your information I was a total arse and bumped into him. Wasn’t his fault. Where do you get off being so rude to a customer, anyway?”

“Oh, no I--”

“He works here,” Uriel said.

He looked over to Aziraphale who was making a concentrated effort to polish his shoes with the sheer power of his stare. Crowley cleared his throat.

“It was my...complimentary shift...treat. That’s why I said you didn’t have to pay for a replacement!”

“Well...still my fault you don’t have it so, how’s this work? Can we get...a large...cup?”

Uriel slowly looked from Crowley to Aziraphale. “Please explain to your boyfriend, who’s wearing sunglasses _indoors_ , how froyo works.”

Both Crowley and Aziraphale spluttered at that, neither managing to come up with a coherent response before Uriel disappeared into the back with a bored, “I’ll ring you when you’re ready.”

They stood in front of the counter, neither looking at the other. Crowley could feel his face burning with embarrassment but beneath that was a pleasant little hum of hope because, well, apparently this _Aziraphale_ wasn’t opposed to seeing men and that was promising.

Aziraphale recovered first, grabbing a small container from the display and gesturing towards the wall lined with nozzles and various stations.

“Have you really never had before?”

Crowley shrugged, “Never had an opportunity, I guess.”

“Well, it’s really very simple. Choose a flavor, fill it up as much as you like, and then you head on over to the bar,” he turned and pointed back to the counter, “and add whatever toppings you want. Goes by weight so…”

“Oooh, that’s where they get you.”

“Quite! Stay away from the gummy bears.”

“Never trusted their beady little eyes anyway.”

The man giggled, honest to God, _giggled_ and Crowley realized he was in trouble. He watched as Aziraphale talked about some flavor combination, apparently the man was a froyo alchemist, and was struck once again by how at a first glance he looked like he could pick Crowley up and snap him in two like the twig he was. Only now Crowley had seen him smile and heard him laugh so he had the distinct and mildly concerning knowledge that he would not only let Aziraphale do it but probably thank him for it.

“And this is the one I had gotten today.”

Crowley blinked, eternally grateful for his glasses, and looked to where Aziraphale was pointing. “Blackberry cheesecake, hmm?”

“It’s new and _very_ good.”

He followed Aziraphale to the counter, “So….about two pounds of gummy bears should finish it off then?”

The other man tsked, spooning graham cracker crumble over his dessert. “I don’t understand the appeal. They get cold! And hard! You can’t chew them, what’s the point, you’re left sucking on some hard--”

The bell over the door chimed and a group came in talking loudly and thankfully drowned out the rest of Aziraphale’s sentence.

Uriel appeared, just as unimpressed as before and deadpanned a greeting before turning to them, “You two ready yet?”

“Yes, thank you,” Aziraphale said, delicately placing the bowl on the scale.

While Uriel rang him up, Crowley pulled out his phone, “I’ve got it.”

“No, no, my dear. I won’t have that.”

But while Aziraphale fumbled in his pocket for, yup there it was, an ancient, worn leather bifold, Crowley flipped his phone over and slid his card out of the holder on the back and held it out to Uriel. He was betting they wouldn’t care enough to watch them bicker and would take the first card offered.

He was right.

Crowley was already scrawling his signature on the screen when Aziraphale managed to free his money. Actual bills, who still carried actual bills?

“Wha--you already--”

“Receipt?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“You really should have let me pay,” Aziraphale huffed, shoving his wallet back in his pocket.

“No such luck,” he said, handing him the bowl.

“Well... I just feel so guilty--”

“ _I_ bumped into _you_.”

“Yes but I--”

“I,” said Uriel, “don’t care and have other customers. Please flirt far, far away from me.”

Awkwardly, the two shuffled over to the counter along the wall.

Crowley cleared his throat, “So uh, I’ve actually gotta go. Friends are waiting. Sibling’s gonna murder me alive if I don’t show up.”

Aziraphale ate a spoonful and frowned at him.

“What?”

“I don’t think...you can murder someone who’s already dead. So the alive...goes without saying?”

“Oh...right.”

“Unless I suppose you were one of the _un_ dead. A zombie or a vampire or some such, then I suppose…”

Crowley stared at him while he ruminated over the technicalities of assassinating the undead in-between demure spoonfuls of froyo and all he could think was _Ohmygod you are so weird, I can’t figure you out I love it please take me out to coffee some time and I’ll just listen to you talk about whatever you want it doesn’t even matter but do not let me leave here without your number._

Aziraphale stared back at him. “O-Oh. Well I. If you...like. I mean I-I like too I just, uh, let me...grab a pen. Excuse me.”

It took Crowley’s brain a truly, astoundingly long time to put together what had just happened. He watched Aziraphale swipe the receipt he’d gotten and disappear into the back. He stared at the empty door frame. And it wasn’t until Aziraphale was halfway to him that it clicked.

He stared down at the slip of paper with a number written on it. “...I said all of that out loud.”

“You did. Although,” Aziraphale’s face dropped, “if you’d rather pretend you didn’t then I underst--”

“Nope!” He snatched the paper with impressive speed and shoved it in his pocket. He had to get out before he did or said something stupid. Or...more stupid than everything he’d already said and done. He took half a step back, “I’ll text you.”

“Oh no, it’s a land line. I haven’t quite caught up to the 20th century.”

“We’re in the 21st.”

“...oh right.”

“Do you unironically own a record player?”

“Unironically?”

Crowley could feel himself grinning and he didn’t even care. “I’ll call you, then.”

He wasn’t soon going to forget the small wave a pink-cheeked Aziraphale had given him as he backed out of the store.

1 This moment is 1000% inspired by my amazing friend's amazing little comic [CLICK HEEEERE](https://twitter.com/goosetooths/status/1177635673593057282?s=20)

**Author's Note:**

> Look. Listen. I took a quiz and one of the questions was like, if someone bumped into you and you dropped your ice cream what would you do? And the answer was cry, obviously. Because I'm a grown ass adult. So of course I wrote the meet-cute I will never have XD


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